


you can plan on me

by myeyesarenotblue



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Presents, Gen, Pre-Canon, TUA Secret Santa, TUA Secret Santa 2019, no beta we die like ben
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-25
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:27:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21953647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myeyesarenotblue/pseuds/myeyesarenotblue
Summary: “Hey, Ben” Klaus blurts, giggling like a maniac.“Yeah?”“Guess what’s behind my back”
Relationships: Ben Hargreeves & Klaus Hargreeves
Comments: 22
Kudos: 152





	you can plan on me

**Author's Note:**

> Happy holidays, people!! 
> 
> This is for [rewouu](https://rewouu.tumblr.com/) on tumblr <3 <3

Ben shuts his bedroom door behind him. 

He sighs, taking a deep and heavy breath, after. He shrugs his jacket off. It’s like Dad doesn’t even care that since December rolled around it’s getting nearly impossible to stand outside for two minutes too long without freezing their asses off. He still makes sure they spar, and train, and run around in circles like idiots. Ben hates it. 

He never listens. One of them could say, “But Dad, there’s a gym in the basement! We could easily spar there!” and then Dad will reply, without exception, “The fresh air will do you good” 

It could be, “But Dad, we could run laps in the big staircase!” and then, “You’ve done enough of that already, you should know your regimes need variety” 

Or, “But Dad, do we even have to train? We know all the moves already” 

And Dad says, “One can never know too much” 

“You asshole, it’s fucking snowing, we’re gonna get fucking hypo-” 

“You’ve just earned ten more laps, Number Four” 

He never listens. Ben hates it. 

He’s tired, and worn, and he’s pretty sure there’s a big chunk of snow melting somewhere in his underwear. He’d like to blame Diego, but truly, truly, he can only blame himself. He thinks he should remember by know, that going against Diego and making the rookie mistake that is not letting him win after two seconds always results in an array of random objects being thrown into places they shouldn’t be thrown in. He should remember by now. 

But he’s an idiot like that, and he didn’t. There’s snow in his underwear. 

He sighs again, long and heavy and hard, just because he can- and even if there’s no one to listen to his moping, it makes him feel the tiniest bit better. 

He considers turning back into the hallway and taking a shower like a normal person would do, but immediately decides against it. He’s too tired. He’s too tired, and the thought of doing anything at all but letting himself fall face-first into his bed and sleeping for maybe a decade is a little too much to handle at the moment. So he does just that. 

He lays haphazardly across his bed, not even bothering to take off his shoes. He resolves to sleep and sleep and sleep, and plan exactly how surprised and oblivious he’s going to act when Diego’s favorite knife goes mysteriously missing. It won’t exactly be hard, he thinks, to fall asleep after the day he’s had- even the creatures are tired, humming quietly and displeased under his skin. 

Tired, tired, tired. 

He lets the ever-present quiet lull him under, the tap-tap-tap of melting snow dripping down from the roof and into the courtyard. He thinks he can hear Vanya practicing that new song she’s been working on somewhere in the house. He breathes deeply, content, comfortable, resting. 

He’s just about to fall asleep when- 

“Ben!” 

Knocking on his door. 

Ben groans, rolls over until he’s lying on his back. 

“Ben!” 

More knocking, gliding into pounding. Ben snaps his eyes shut and makes the very smart choice of ignoring the noise and hoping it’ll go away. 

“Benny!” 

It doesn’t go away. 

“Ben, Ben, Ben!” 

Ben pats blindly for a pillow and pushes it tight against his face, hoping it’ll muffle even the tiniest little bit of the noise by some miracle. 

It doesn’t. 

“My best bro, Numero Six! Benny-boy!” 

The knocking grows into pounding, and then the pounding sounds like straight up kicking and punching and whacking, and there’s just one person in the academy who’d do that after waiting for exactly five seconds, is there not? 

Ben huffs, annoyed, but not surprised. 

He drags himself off the bed long enough to unlock his bedroom’s door and then plops right down again, this time kicking off his shoes and tucking himself under the covers. 

Klaus strolls inside, looking all smug and proud, and not even a speck of guilty after nearly kicking down his door. But that’s to expect. What’s not to expect, though, is that Klaus is carrying something with him, something hidden behind his back, unseen. 

Ben squints, tilts his head and just barely makes out a sharp edge, wrapped in red. 

He throws Klaus a questioning look and immediately regrets it. 

Klaus squeals a high noise, full anticipation and excitement, and before he knows it, he’s jumping right into his bed. It’s half a second, and he doesn’t have any leverage with his hands behind his back, but somehow, he still manages to make his knee land right somewhere over Ben’s ribs. 

“Ugh- Klaus! Watch it” Ben moans, clutching his stomach while straightening up and scooting over to the side, because apparently, they’re having a sleepover now, whether he wants it or not. 

Klaus sits there, an unsettling expression on his face. Far too giddy for his liking. It can only mean trouble. “Ben,” Klaus gushes and doesn’t say another word, instead of explaining himself. He keeps staring on and his eyes are- _sparkling._

Ben narrows his eyes, “Klaus?” 

He sort of wants to ask if he’s high, but he doesn’t really think that’s it. Drugs tend to make him fuzzy and slow and compliant (at least the ones he usually takes, anyway) and right now he seems far too energetic to be anything but his usual sober self. 

“Hey, Ben” Klaus blurts, giggling like a maniac. 

“Yeah?” 

“Guess what’s behind my back” 

Ben frowns, makes a face. He doesn’t like surprises. And besides, besides, “How are you not tired?” 

“Oh, no. I totally feel like I’m gonna pass out any second” Klaus mutters, but he’s chewing- his tongue, or his cheek, or something, and he’s jittery and frenzied. Ben starts doubting that drug thing, but then- “I drank like, half a pot of coffee an hour ago” 

“I thought you hated coffee” 

“Yeah, fuck coffee! That thing tastes like shit” 

Ben blinks, very carefully doesn’t ask where the hell Klaus even got coffee since Dad absolutely loathes the thing and doesn’t allow it in the house. “Yeah,” he says, because he doesn’t know what else to say. “Yeah, it tastes pretty awful” 

Klaus nods along, but then he seems to remember he barged in into his room for a reason. “You haven’t guessed” he moans, pouting. “Guess!” 

“Uh, I don’t-” 

“Fine, I’ll tell you” 

Klaus doesn’t waste a single second, and in the blink of an eye, he’s pulling the something he was hiding from behind his back and shoving it all of two inches away from Ben’s face. Ben scrambles backwards instinctually, nearly falling off the bed, but he manages to keep his balance just in time to look up, and then- 

And then he sees it. 

Shiny red and pretty, a little rectangle wrapped in craft paper. 

He’s left blinking dumbly at it, again, and again, and again, and for the longest, most embarrassing moment, he doesn’t quite understand what he’s seeing, doesn’t understand the carelessly thrown pieces of glitter, or the giant green bow, or the crude little drawing in the corner, all sharpie lines and messy scribbles, of what can only be a reindeer sprouting tentacles in place of antlers. 

“Merry Christmas, Ben” Klaus says, smiling softly, eyes twinkling. 

Christmas. 

Ben’s- 

They’ve never done Christmas. Ever. They’ve never done Easter, or Halloween, or Thanksgiving, or any of those pretty and entrancing theme days- holidays, those ones from the movies and the billboards, the ones where everyone looks happy and relaxed and loved. 

They’ve never done any of that. 

They barely do birthdays. Dad hands them some pen or some journal or some keychain with an engraved umbrella, all wrapped up in the dullest paper, and that’s it. 

Ben’s- 

Ben stares up at the shiny rectangle, stares up at the big bow. 

He always did wonder what those children in the movies and the billboards were feeling when they found a present under their Christmas tree. They always look so unexplainably, unmistakably, irrevocably, plain _happy-_

Overwhelmed and overjoyed, entranced. 

Ben never understood. 

He thinks he understands now. 

“Klaus, you-” Ben starts, amazed, eyes wide, but he thinks he’s been staring dumbly for a little too long, speechless and way too startled. Klaus’ pulled the little rectangle closer to himself, away from Ben, away and into his chest. 

“I mean,” Klaus mutters, and he’s lost a bit of that twinkle, now shifting nervously, “I know it’s silly, so it’s cool if you don’t, like-” and he’s biting his lip, avoiding Ben’s eyes, “like it, or _want_ it, y’know? It’s just-” 

Ben huffs, decides to make the very wise decision that is interrupting Klaus’ rambling before it gets any worse, “Hey, Klaus, you don’t-” 

But Klaus doesn’t listen. 

“-you're always watching all those Christmas movies in our half hour, so I thought-” 

_“Klaus!”_

_“What?”_

Klaus looks up sharply, startled. 

Ben doesn’t even have the heart to tell him the reason he watches all those Christmas movies during their half hour is because he might or might not have developed an unhealthy obsession with romcoms over the past few months. He had to get to the Christmas ones at some point. There’s only so many times a person can watch 13 Going on 30. 

Ben swallows, pushes down his thoughts and instead focuses on what’s right in front of him. “Is that,” he starts, far more nervous than any shiny big bow has any right to make him, “Is that for me? A present?” 

“Yeah, sure” Klaus says, and it sounds almost like a question. The smile’s back on his face, though. “A Christmas present, if you will” 

Ben chuckles, disbelieving and happy. “Isn’t that thing about Jesus?” 

Klaus gasps, “Well, yeah, but-” he sighs, very clearly annoyed. “We can just ignore that part. Besides, I once had a really fucked up dream that I died and God was an ethnically ambiguous teenage girl who called me a loser and then kicked me out of heaven, so I’m not really big on religion” 

Ben blinks. Tries to make sense of Klaus’ words. 

He can’t. 

_“What?”_

He has a feeling that particular dream of his might have been fueled by some strong hallucinogens. 

Klaus rolls his eyes, “Do you want your present or not?” 

“Of course I want it” Ben hisses, maybe a little too aggressive. Even the creatures stir, rumbling under his skin. Ben snaps his eyes shut briefly, takes a deep breath and wills them to settle. Is he really getting all that possessive over what’s probably a pack of smokes, or a beer, or some dirty magazine snatched from that creepy convenience store down the street? 

Yes, yes, he is. 

Klaus watches him, amused. “Good” he says, a breath from laughing, and Ben kind of wants to punch him in the face. “I was starting to get a little worried, here” 

Ben glares at him, crosses his arms over his chest. 

Klaus sighs, all dreamy and annoying, and then, and then, “Merry Christmas, brother o’mine!” he announces, incredibly loud, and bright, and obnoxious, and before Ben can do anything to stop him, he’s launching forwards and planting the wettest, grossest, biggest kiss right on Ben’s cheek. 

_“Ugh-”_

He tries to push him away, only half succeeds. Klaus laughs- _the_ _asshole_ , and then he promptly shoves the bright little rectangle on Ben’s lap, climbing out of bed with uncoordinated movements. “May your days be holy and bright” he gushes, a glaring smile on his face. 

Ben rubs his cheek, scrunching up his nose. There’s actual _spit_ smeared in there, and he- “What the hell, Klaus? You can’t go around licking people, that’s gross” 

“I did not lick you” Klaus retorts almost immediately, all sure words and confident stance, even though he very much did lick him. Ben rolls his eyes. “Anyway,” Klaus says. “Merry Christmas, bro. Enjoy your present” 

And then he’s gone. 

He squeezes Ben’s shoulder, shoots him a dizzying smile one last time, and then he’s snatching open his bedroom’s door, stepping out. 

“Hey, Klaus” Ben calls, before he can leave. 

“Yeah?” 

Ben levels him with a look. Out of everyone in the house, he’s not surprised it was him, Klaus, of all people, the one who’d actually want to do something special for the holidays, or anything at all. Still, he feels- warmed, loved. Happy. Overwhelmed and overjoyed, entranced. 

Just like the people in the movies. 

“Thank you” he says, and he means it. 

Klaus nods, looking down, shy all of the sudden, and then he’s shutting the door behind him without another word. 

Ben stares at the door, unblinking. 

He doesn’t move a single muscle for a long moment, too busy trying to make sense of what just happened. He’s almost afraid of looking down and to his lap, and to his _present_ , afraid that somehow- _somehow_ , it won’t be there. 

Ben swallows, rubs the last of Klaus’ spit away from his cheek and then ghosts his fingers over the craft paper, shiny red and pretty. The drawing is, indeed, a sad attempt of a red-nosed reindeer sprouting tentacles. It’s got googly eyes, and everything. Ben’s kind of impressed. 

He unties the ribbon carefully, mindful not to disturb the paper too much, and then he’s peeling the mess of tape away, and- he knows, he knows the children in the movies always tear and rip and shred, and maybe he should, too, but he can’t really bring himself to do it. He thinks he’s going to end up keeping that little piece of red paper forever and ever, tucked away along with his most prized possessions. 

When he’s done with the tape, done freeing his present from the paper, Ben holds his breath, stops just shy of revealing what’s inside. 

From the weight and feel of it, he thinks it might be a book, and isn’t that the most wonderful thing ever? He’s read everything half-decent in the house already, Klaus knows that- Ben's told him, in several occasions, late at night when neither one of them can sleep and the only thing they can do is whine about their lives to each other. 

Ben smiles, bites his bottom lip. 

He lifts the paper up and away slowly, stets it aside, and then he’s left staring at- 

_H. P. Lovecraft – The Call of Cthulhu and Other Weird Stories_

Oh, Ben thinks. Oh. 

And he thinks back to the handful of short stories by Lovecraft he managed to read before Dad confiscated the forgotten book he had found lying around in the house, thinks back to the endless hours he had rambled non-stop about it, very nearly talking Klaus’ ear off. 

It’s perfect, Ben thinks. It’s the best Christmas present he’s ever gotten. 

The only Christmas present he’s ever gotten. 

He lets a burst of hysterical laughter bubble out of his throat, holds the book tight against his chest, carefully, so very carefully. Maybe he’s ought to have a long talk with Klaus about dialing down the whole tentacle-themed-everything thing, but- 

Most importantly, Ben thinks, laughing deliriously, insane, happy- most importantly, he needs to sneak out of his bedroom’s window the second the opportunity presents itself, climb out, and then he needs to wander all of the streets and the stores and the shops, looking for the perfect gift. 

It’s just not fair that Klaus can now say he’s given a Christmas present but not that he’s received one. 

**Author's Note:**

> someone with art skills pls draw a reindeer with tentacles 
> 
> follow me on tumblr [@myeyesarenotblue](https://myeyesarenotblue.tumblr.com/)


End file.
